


In the Dark

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-01
Updated: 2005-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:32:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1639076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perfection is possible, if only temporary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Thamiris

 

 

Achilles always comes back to him. He swears that he loves Patroclus best of all his lovers, and Patroclus knows it to be the truth. And out of all those who have loved Achilles, Patroclus loves him best. There is no room for envy or mistrust between them. Even for all the mysteries of eternity, they know their time is growing ever shorter. War is no place for promises.

Sailing now for Troy, it seems as though Achilles' frequent prayers have been answered, and they truly are the only two people in the world. The waves are rife with perils, but here under the stars, they can forget for a while. For the moment, there is no war, no armour or kings or battles. For the moment, Achilles can lay his head in his lover's lap and point lazily up at the stars, naming them, his voice a refrain over the gentle cadence of the waves.

Achilles forgets the stars in favour of Patroclus' eyes, and Patroclus hasn't cast a glance skyward to begin with. He leans to kiss Achilles softly, a feathery ghost of a kiss that makes Achilles smile up at him, eyes heavy-lidded and cheeks pink. Achilles says something, or perhaps he only moans as he rolls over on his stomach to slide his hands underneath Patroclus' tunic, caressing his thighs and smiling wickedly when reproached for stopping too soon.

"You have the legs of a god," Achilles murmurs, kissing the fair, soft skin, farther and farther up, driving Patroclus mad with desire. Patroclus is on the point of begging to be touched, but he never has to. Achilles' mouth always engulfs him at just the right moment, and the words of pleading die on his lips and escape instead as a sigh, a moan.

Tonight it feels different somehow. Perhaps Achilles' mouth is hotter, or the strokes of his expert tongue slower, more reverent. Perhaps there is something in the air. But something is different. Better. Achilles feels it too, Patroclus knows without asking. He pulls Achilles up and kisses him hungrily, both of them tearing off clothing and tossing it aside, sighing in satsifaction as skin meets skin, aching erections crushed together. They gasp words of love into one another's mouths, holding each other as tightly as possible in hopes that they might melt together.

Patroclus lavishes kisses over Achilles' chest, tongueing the rosy nipples and making Achilles moan and buck his hips. "Now," Achilles whispers. Patroclus is always amazed at Achilles' ability to turn a plea into a command. He would have obeyed either one, though, and he knows what Achilles wants. He teases him a little, slowly kissing his way down Achilles' body, pausing to give attention to the hollows of his hips before gently spreading Achilles' legs and lifting his hips. He gently flicks his tongue over Achilles' entrance, teasing again, and Achilles moans loudly. Patroclus smiles, now kissing at the taut ring of muscle in earnest. He gently pushes one finger in, then two, his other hand firmly stroking Achilles' erection. "Now," Achilles says again, and Patroclus swiftly sits up to thrust himself into that tight heat.

They don't close their eyes. They never have. Patroclus loves seeing the desire and pleasure written on Achilles' face, loves watching Achilles' lips move as he whispers his name and kisses him. It isn't even the pleasure he craves in this lovemaking. It is pleasure, yes, but the pleasure lies in being able to be inside Achilles. This is as close to one as they can ever hope to be, and he revels in it before he abandons himself to ecstasy, smiling at the way Achilles bites his lip as Patroclus thrusts into him. Achilles climaxes into Patroclus' hand, and the sight is enough to set Patroclus over the edge, now pounding frantically and uncontrolled into Achilles as his release overtakes him.

They lie together, holding each other, Achilles with his head on Patroclus' chest, looking up at the stars. He knows there will come a day when they will never again have this leisure, perhaps be separated for good. There may be a day when Achilles doesn't come back to him. But for the moment, here under the stars, listening to the waves crash against the sides of the boat, all is perfect and eternal.

 


End file.
